


What Makes a Family

by the_wistful_traveler



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brief mention of miscarriage, Family Feels, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wistful_traveler/pseuds/the_wistful_traveler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bilbo finds conversation, acceptance, and a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Makes a Family

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Как стать семьёй](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217338) by [Jiminy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiminy/pseuds/Jiminy)



Over the course of the journey, but especially since he saved Thorin from the Pale Orc at the cliff, Bilbo had felt a shift in his reception within the Company. For some, it was not as obvious – Fili, Kili, and Bofur had always been kind to him, even when he was fretting about handkerchiefs and fussing about where he was going to sleep that night. But for others, it was as if his reckless impulse to save the leader of the company had in some way proved himself to them, and they had become warmer, more accepting of his presence.

Dwalin had approached him one evening out of the blue, offering to teach him how to care for his “letter-opener” – a move, Balin assured him, was as much a seal of approval as Dwalin was ever going to offer. Bilbo could understand that, and accepted the lessons gratefully. This spirit of acceptance, as if Bilbo was now one of them, was echoed in the actions of even the older dwarfs, who were less likely to thoughtlessly allow someone close. Most of them had been there for the fall of Erebor and the raid on Moria, and they better than anyone understood the consequences of trusting the wrong person to have their backs. The unstated trust that emerged in the weeks following the moment on the cliff was something Bilbo vowed never to break. 

Even Thorin had been more receptive to his presence as of late. He still badgered and insulted the hobbit, of course, but it was clear to Bilbo now that it was meant as teasing, along the same lines as the affection he showed to his reckless nephews. The biggest surprise, however, came in the form of Dori, Nori, and Ori. Anyone could see that the two oldest brothers protected the youngest fiercely, curling around him at night as they slept and reducing their own rations to sure he got enough to eat. So when Ori sat next to him at the fire one night, quietly offering to teach him how to knit, Bilbo smiled happily and accepted. He was only grateful that Ori promised never to tell how miserable of a failure _that_ venture had been, and these days, their conversations were filled with other topics as Ori knitted and Bilbo smoked his pipe.

“What was it like, growing up with two older brothers?” Bilbo asked during one such conversation. Ori was quiet and thoughtful for a moment, considering his response as his knitting needles clacked rhythmically against each other. 

“Nice,” the young dwarf finally replied. “I never knew my parents, so Nori and Dori were all I had. Dori’s the oldest, so he was always a bit of a mother hen about Nori and I. They take good care of me. I’m lucky to have them.” Bilbo smiled, wistful.

“I never had any siblings; I can’t imagine. It must be lovely, though,” the hobbit said honestly. Ori glanced at him as he carefully selected another length of yarn and began knitting again. 

“I thought hobbits valued large families,” Ori said carefully, not sure how his words would be received. 

“We do,” Bilbo said, twisting his fingers together. He wished suddenly that he had something to occupy his hands with as he spoke. “My mother was with child several more times after I was born, but none of them survived.” Bilbo shrugged, trying to pretend as if the subject of his unborn brothers and sisters and the memory of his mother’s stricken face wasn't still a dull pang in his chest. “She eventually started to take a tonic that prevented conception; I don’t think she could have withstood another miscarriage.” Ori paused in his knitting and set the half-finished scarf down. He reached over, taking the hobbit’s hand in his and squeezed it briefly. 

“I am sorry, Bilbo,” he said, picking up his knitting again. And he was, truly. Dwarfs valued children as much as hobbits, if only for the fact that they were so rarely born to them: a race with few women, scattered across the lands as it was, did not produce many children. Not anymore. The look on Bilbo’s face was despondent and he gazed sightlessly into the fire some distance away, fingers still twisting into his sweater. Ori found that he didn’t like that look on his friend’s face and groped for a way to banish it. Suddenly, the solution came to him. Under the pretense of examining the simple pattern in the scarf, he said casually,

“Dori and Nori are not my brothers by blood.” Bilbo started, turning to face him with surprised eyes. 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked. Ori nodded. 

“They found me during the fall of Erebor; I was but a babe at the time. I was in my mother’s arms, but she was already dead. They didn't recognize her, or me, but Dori tells me she was dressed in the clothing of a silversmith. They never found my father, or anyone missing a baby, so the only thing to do was raise me as their brother. They named me Ori later that night, once they had found safety in a caravan heading toward the Iron Hills, Dáin’s land.” When Ori finally looked back up from his knitting, meeting Bilbo’s eyes, he was relieved to see that the shadows were gone. In their place was a soft unspoken question.

“Family is not always just blood kin,” Ori answered him. “Sometimes, your family can be whom you choose, and who chooses you. The ones that make you feel safe, happy, and loved.” He knotted off the end of the yarn, using a small knife to separate the now-finished scarf from the large bundle of thread. “Here,” Ori said, handing the scarf to Bilbo. The hobbit accepted it, a lost and achingly bewildered expression on his face. “I noticed you've been shivering lately,” Ori said matter-of-factly. Then he stood, glancing over to the rest of the group. “You have a family here, Bilbo, if you want it.” The young dwarf gave Bilbo a smile and headed over to where his brothers were. 

Bilbo sat by himself for a while, clutching the soft blue fabric to himself tightly. Ori was right – he’d been colder lately, especially at night. Bilbo didn’t think anyone had noticed. He wound the scarf around his neck, feeling the warmth sink into him. Then he heard footsteps approaching him and looked up, expecting Ori again, or maybe even Fili or Kili. Instead, he saw Bofur smiling gently at him. 

“Can I sit with you?” Bofur asked in his soft brogue. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Bilbo stuttered, roused out of his thoughts. The toy-maker sat down next to the hobbit, looking at the new scarf appreciatively. 

“What were you and Ori talking about, if you don’t mind me asking?” Bofur asked as he relaxed and pulled out his pipe. Bilbo thought about the past hour spent with the young dwarf, and their discussion of families, and how Ori wasn’t related to Nori and Dori but that didn't even matter because they loved each other and looked out for each other.

Then Bilbo looked at Bofur, seeing the same warmly tender expression the dwarf had been looking at him with all along, and maybe, just maybe, Bofur could offer Bilbo a different kind of family, one he couldn't and didn't find in the Shire. And maybe, just maybe, Bilbo didn't have to be scared anymore. Bilbo relaxed and shyly reached his hand over to touch Bofur’s, running his fingers gently over the scarred knuckles. Then, daringly, he interlaced their fingers. He looked up at Bofur and offered a smile. There was surprise on Bofur’s face, and hopefulness, but no rejection, and Bilbo’s heart warmed with the sudden realization that _this could work_.

“Family.”


End file.
